Angel Kisses and Riversong

by Lynnette Bonner

  Jett’s brows shot up. He tossed Salem a look that was half apology half confusion, obviously uncertain how to respond in the face of Gran’s unwarranted anger. She sighed. Welcome to the club.

  This time when she pushed her salad aside, Jett didn’t protest.

  Salem took Gran by one arm. “Okay, come on. Up. Out of the chair.” She’d long ago figured out that the best way to respond in these situations was to treat Gran firmly, and give precise instructions. “We are walking this way.” She tugged her toward the door. “To the door, there, see it? Oh look at those beautiful red curtains! Aren’t they pretty?” Distractions also seemed to help to a degree.

  Gran looked at the curtains and, at least for the moment, quit resisting Salem’s urgings to walk forward.

  Behind them she could hear Jett quickly clearing their table and depositing their trays on top of the garbage receptacle counter. “Thanks.” He must have spoken to Jonie, but with Gran grumbling in her ear Salem didn’t hear if she responded.

  Salem felt bad that she hadn’t thought to say goodbye to the woman herself. She tossed over her shoulder, “Thanks, Jonie. Sorry to rush off.”

  “Not a thing to worry about! Praying for you!” Jonie called back.

  “Thanks!” Could certainly use all of that I can get. Salem dug her keys from her purse. “Alright, through the door here. Then we are just going down the sidewalk to the car. Look at the beautiful flowers. Aren’t they pretty? Look—there’s petunias, and geraniums, and roses.”

  Gran fell to silence.

  Salem tossed the keys to Jett. “Do you mind driving? I’ll sit with Gran in the backseat.”

  He nodded and moved to comply.

  All the way home, Salem kept up the benign chatter, distracting Gran from her agitated state with descriptions of this and that. And by the time they returned to the house and she got Gran upstairs, gave her the meds, and then got her to lie down for a nap, Salem felt about as exhausted as she had in college when she’d pulled an all-nighter to study for a big test.

  When she arrived downstairs once more, Jett was sitting on the couch in the living room, his arm stretched along the back. She would have loved to curl into his side, let him wrap his arms around her, and sooth away all her weariness and strain, but of course that was silly. Instead, she took the overstuffed leather chair with the ottoman across from the couch, tucking her feet up beneath her legs. She slumped onto the arm of the chair and rested her head on her bent elbow.

  He watched her from across the room. Those steady gray eyes boring into her. “I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you.”

  She felt the sting of tears at the back of her eyes, but didn’t allow them to fall. “I might have taken on more than I can handle.”

  Jett leaned forward, clasping his hands in front of him and planting his forearms against his knees. “You are doing an amazing job with her, but you’re right, you can’t do everything. You’ll wear yourself out.”

  She knew that was true. Had already felt the exhaustion nipping at her sanity on several occasions. “I just want what’s best for her. I know she’d get good care in a home. In fact that’s what I thought would be best for her, at first. But then my job fell through and I couldn’t—” She broke off before blurting her financial woes. He made her feel so comfortable it was easy to forget that she’d only known him for a little over a week. “Anyhow, now, the more that I think about it, I’m afraid she would just be another patient to them. Not get the individualized care she needs. So maybe it was God’s intervention that prevented me from getting that job.”

  Empathy shone in his eyes. “Maybe you could hire some help to come here to the house?”

  She blew out a breath. All she could see when she thought about that was a string of dollar signs dancing in her vision. Gran’s insurance would only cover so much. “That’s an idea. I’ll have to look into that. After I get some sleep.” She smiled at her own humor, wishing she really could afford the luxury of closing her eyes and sleeping for a few minutes. But Gran might wake at any moment. And the Aria Room was not going to paint itself. It was becoming more and more clear that she needed to get Gran moved into that room as soon as possible. She’d barely been able to get her up the stairs today.

  Her body rebelled at the thought of getting up. Maybe she would just lie here with her eyes closed for a few minutes. But then a thought jolted through her. Her eyes shot open. “We never found you your fishing holes.”

  “That’s alright. We can do it another time.”

  Salem’s gaze involuntarily darted to the stairs. She doubted she would be able to go anywhere with him anytime soon. Today’s little adventure had made it clear that Gran didn’t do so well when she got out of her element. “Maybe I could show them to you on a satellite view? If I point them out, do you think you could find them on your own?”

  “Oh. Yeah, I think so. Good idea.” A twinkle of something mischievous leapt into his eyes. He patted the cushion next to him and tugged his phone from his shirt pocket with a double pump of his brows.

  She laughed. It must be her weariness making her giddy. Giving him an “I’m onto your tricks, mister” look, she padded across the carpet and sank down, keeping a one-cushion barrier. Making sure to keep plenty of space between them, she leaned over and snagged his phone from his grasp.

  His chuckle was soft, and as tantalizing as warm caramel. A pleasant shiver rippled through her.

  She did her best to ignore him as she pulled up the satellite view on his map app, and honed in on the aerial view of Riversong. “Okay, so we’re right here”—she held the phone out for him to see the spot she indicated—“and right down here is Big Bend. You can park in a little parking lot you can see here… And the hole Dad liked best is on the south side of the bend, just below the big rock. Then the other one I was going to show you”—she pulled back to readjust the map on the phone—“is a little further south right…here.” Once more, she held the phone out for him to see.

  He squinted at the screen. “Wait, where?”

  She leaned a little closer so he could see better. “Right here along this stretch by mile post thirty. You have to park along the road at that hole, but there’s a pull-out that works fairly well.”

  “Sorry.” He frowned. “Show me again?”

  She scooted over and zoomed the map in a little. “It’s right—”

  He laughed softly—right next to her ear.

  She stilled, and looked up. He was surprisingly close, his temple propped against one fist where his arm rested against the back of the couch. So close that she could see the aqua flecks in his eyes and feel the brush of his bicep against the side of her head.

  “Gotcha,” he whispered, that flirty smile crinkling the corners of his oh-so-amazing eyes.

  Her breath hitched. She tried to cover it up with a self-deprecating laugh and a finger-jab to his side. “Tricky.”

  He chuckled warmly, and captured her hand. His humor-filled gaze swept leisurely over her face, lingering on her mouth for a moment before he cleared his throat and eased back slightly. He lifted one shoulder. “You caught me red-handed.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, though she couldn’t seem to dredge up even an ounce of disgruntlement. “Just see if I ever offer to show you a fishing hole again.”

  His thumb slipped across the back of her hand. “Hmmm… Might have to try bribery. What’ll it take?” He caressed a stroke along her pinky finger. “A dozen roses? A box of chocolates? Maybe a trip to Hawaii?”

  Her heart hammered with pleasure at the thought of Jett doing any of those things for her. But in that moment another picture flashed into her mind. One of Dale’s expression as he’d skimmed her from head to toe in the grocery store and asked what she’d been doing.

  Uncertainly crept in. Before her sat a guy who mentioned trips to Hawaii in the same breath as buying a box of chocolates. What could a man with that much money possibly see in someone like her? She was under no illusions about her beauty.
She was just a girl from Riversong, trying her best to take care of those she loved and keep her life from falling to pieces. What appeal could she possibly hold for Jett Hudson, former NFL quarterback? Even if she did give in to his urging and they were together for a while, it would surely come crashing down around her at some point, and she’d be left valiantly trying to reassemble the pieces of her broken heart.

  She could feel her pulse pounding in her throat now as every warning bell in her brain started clamoring at once. Jett’s life was all topsy-turvy right now. He probably didn’t even know what he wanted. Certainly she wasn’t the type of woman he’d normally pursue?

  The idea of them being a couple elicited a nice feeling. But one of them had to be the responsible adult who realized that neither of them were in a place in their lives where starting a relationship would be a good idea. And yet the desire to just give in to the current of emotion hammered through her. And that scared her. Terrified her, was more like it. How had he slipped past her barriers so easily?

  Panic plucked at her breath, and she tugged for the release of her hand. She practically leapt to her feet. “I need to run check on Gran. Have fun fishing.”

  She fled from the room. As she took the curve in the stairs she glanced back.

  He was staring after her with a quizzical frown bunching his forehead.

  When she got upstairs Gran was stirring, and by the time she got Gran to her chair and situated with her audiobook and knitting, and returned downstairs, Jett was gone.

  Relief mixed with disappointment and swirled through her. She rolled her eyes at herself and headed for the Aria to start prepping it for painting. Between bouts of running up to check on Gran, she got the whole room taped and prepared, then made a quick dinner of chicken pot pies and salad. She and Gran were eating when she heard him return.

  His footsteps hit the stone tiles with a precise clarity that indicated frustration. He glanced through the kitchen door on his way past, and she caught a flash of emotion in his expression that she couldn’t quite pinpoint.

  Gran must have heard him too, because she craned to see through the door. “Howard? Is that you?”

  Salem heard him come to a stop. She held her breath.

  After only a moment he reversed course and came towards them, his footsteps softer and less aggressive this time.

  Salem snapped her gaze to her salad, as though deciphering each ingredient might be the key to her survival. She separated carrots and cucumbers into their own little piles.

  “It’s just me, Gran.” He stepped through the door.

  Salem pushed two tomatoes to one corner of the plate.

  “Is it raining outside?” Gran’s tone held a bit of angst, and she started to rise from her chair. “I should turn off the sprinkler.”

  Salem’s hand shot out to keep Gran in her seat. “It’s not raining, Gran. The sprinkler is fine.”

  Thankfully, Gran seemed willing to take her word for it this time.

  “She’s right,” Jett said, propping his hands against his hips. “I just look wet because I went for a run.”

  Salem glanced at him then, and felt her eyes widen. A large V of moisture marred Jett’s red Buccaneer muscle shirt from collarbone to midriff. His curls also glistened with sweat, and beads dotted his forehead and arms. He shifted at her scrutiny, drawing her gaze to taut, powerful legs that had almost as many ridges as his torso.

  She swallowed. Had he been running this whole time? She looked up—and met his searching gaze. That indecipherable emotion still lingered. A touch of hurt. A touch of frustration. A touch of…sympathy? Her heart hammered. She returned her focus to her plate and worked at stabbing as many pieces of spinach as possible.

  Jett’s feet shuffled again. “I’m going to catch a shower. You ladies have a good evening.”

  “Night,” Salem murmured.

  Gran’s fork stabbed the air in her direction. “I think that polite boy, Dale, might be interested in you again. That’s nice. Every woman needs a good man like Dale.”

  From beyond the kitchen doorway Salem heard a distinct snort.

  CHAPTER 11

  The next morning after breakfast, Jett returned to his room and flopped down on his bed. Salem had been brusque at breakfast, and he hadn’t wanted to coerce her to talk when he knew she needed to get Gran’s morning routine going. But they needed to talk. He’d had plenty of women give him signals that they were interested in him, few of which he’d ever responded to. But with Salem, it was different. She seemed to be doing her best to appear uninterested, and yet the spark between them was undeniable. So why would she resist it so firmly?

  Then again… He scrubbed his hands over his face. Maybe this was all just wishful thinking on his part?

  He eased himself off the bed, wincing as he padded over to the sliding glass doors that overlooked the river. Every muscle in his body ached like he’d taken a pounding. He’d pushed himself hard and long on his run last night, beating himself up for the fact that he’d scared her. She was like a skittish fawn, ready to leap away at the slightest provocation. If this relationship was going to go anywhere, it was going to require patience and persistence, and he obviously needed practice with the former.

  Was it really only the issue of distance that was making her hesitate? Or was there something more. Last night she’d seemed fine, even seemed to be enjoying herself, and then something—uncertainty? trepidation? fear?—had flickered in her eyes just before she’d fled the room.

  He hated to think that he was the one who had put that there.

  And yet…something about the emotion that had passed over her bothered him beyond the fact that it had made her flee from him. There was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He blew out a breath, giving up on trying to figure out exactly what had happened. Yet, he didn’t want to give up on getting to know her. She fascinated him like no other woman had in a very long time.

  He heard a metallic clatter from the bedroom across the hall. He’d seen cans of paint just inside the room’s door earlier. Maybe he could talk her into letting him help?

  He strode across the hall and poked his head inside. Her back to him, she bent over to dip a brush into the can of paint at her feet.

  Mindful that he didn’t want to startle her as he seemed to constantly be doing, he announced himself by clearing his throat softly.

  With a yelp, she spun around to face him. An arc of paint splatted across the front of his shirt and the wall beside him.

  Horror widened her eyes. “I’m so sorry!”

  So much for trying not to startle her.

  Laughing, he looked down at the blue streaks on the front of his black Buc’s t-shirt. “Well, that’s one way to get me to help you paint. I was coming to offer, but now I guess I have to.” He gave her a friendly wink to let her know he was kidding.

  With an agitated gesture toward his shirt, she dropped the paint brush onto the tray near her feet and stepped closer. “If you take that off I can try rinsing it out right quick to save it.”

  He saw the moment she registered what she’d just asked him to do, because the prettiest blush burst to life on her cheeks and she suddenly seemed very determined to remove a tiny drop of paint from one finger. The devil in him almost made him comply with her request. He’d worked hard to keep in shape all these years. Why not get some mileage out of that? But he could see that she was already regretting her impromptu offer, and he didn’t want to make her more uncomfortable. So instead all he said was, “Nah. It’s just going to get more paint on it throughout the day anyhow.”

  She puffed out a breath and her eyes lifted to his. “It probably wouldn’t have come out all the way, anyhow.”

  “Probably not.”

  They stood just a foot from each other, and Jett was happy that she didn’t seem inclined to boot him out of the room.

  Firmly fixing in his mind the image of a skittish fawn, he lowered his voice and spoke softly. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable last nigh
t.” Uncomfortable wasn’t the right label, but he wasn’t sure of a better descriptor at the moment, and he had an inkling that pushing her to reveal what she’d been feeling would only get him a door in the face.

  Her gaze flitted over his features. He stood still and let her study him. Was she looking for sincerity? She shouldn’t have trouble finding that, because it was there in spades.

  After a long moment she moistened her lips. “I shouldn’t have just run off the way I did. But look… I’m under no illusions over who I am, and who you are.”

  He puzzled over that as he watched her. What was that supposed to mean? There’d been an underlying current in the words he couldn’t quite decipher. Reminding himself of the need for patience, he gently teased, “Who you are is a beautiful woman? And who I am is a man who’s interested in getting to know you better?”

  She released a small sigh. “Jett.” Her tone conveyed that he should get serious.

  Alright. If that was what she wanted, he could go there. He tilted his head and pegged her with a look. “Who are you?”

  She tossed up one hand, and then gestured to the room around them. “I’m just a small town girl, doing the best I can to get by and take care of the people I love.”

  Wait a minute… She didn’t mean… His pulse hammered in dread over what her answer to his next question might be. “And who am I?”

  She hesitated, as though she might be a bit uncertain of her next words.

  He took a step nearer. “Who am I?”

  White teeth worked over the pink flesh of her bottom lip. “You’re…you.”

  He tilted his head and simply waited for her to elaborate.

  After a moment, she released a huff of frustration and paced away from him. “I’m under no illusions, Jett. I know you are going through a bit of turmoil right now, but—”

  She broke off, but her expression pinched into a grimace. He kept his mouth clamped shut and continued to wait. She better not be about to say what he feared she was.